


Listen

by ExplodedPen



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Angst, Gen, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-22
Updated: 2006-09-22
Packaged: 2017-11-05 07:13:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/403769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExplodedPen/pseuds/ExplodedPen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When they could both talk neither would listen. And now, listening is all they have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Listen

At first I think it's a Nurse, one hasn't been by in almost an hour but I can't blame them. I see the door open slowly and he steps into the room, back straight, proudly wearing his uniform. I want to chuckle but somehow manage to refrain.

His uniform is almost impeccable, a symbol of his defiance, however the collar has been unfastened slightly. He stands to attention, his gaze focused directly on the wall behind me. I find myself wondering what is running through his mind, wondering if I can detect his thoughts through the barely discernable flicker of emotion on his face.

I see so much in his face, the stray lines - more than I remember ever seeing; I recall some of the news articles and feel guilty even as I stare. His gaze slides towards me and I stare into his eyes critically. Gone is the indignant rage and the angry defiance of an innocent. There is a haunted look now, the innocence is gone and I find myself growing angry. I knew he shouldn't have gone; he should have done as I told him, then perhaps he would still hold that innocence within his gaze, the innocence of one who has not truly seen the despicable acts of the universe.

He doesn't move as he stares at me. I find myself struggling to recall the last time he openly stared at me for this long, it saddens me to realise just how long ago it was.

If he knew my thoughts I imagine he would react in surprise, we never had an easy relationship and though over the years I have snatched moments with which to observe him, I don't believe he ever knew.

I was never comfortable expressing emotion in front of others, my feelings are private, deeply personal, why should I share them with others?

But...

That was before. Now I find myself cursing all the moments lost, regretting my choices in life, perhaps I should have said something before now.

"Are you going to sit down?" I ask

He merely stares at me, his expression now unreadable. I almost sigh, but stop myself.

I have to talk to him, I have to talk with my son but I don't know if he will stay long enough to listen. I don't know if I have enough time to speak.

Communication between us has never been strong. It broke down long ago, he tried but I was too proud, I couldn't bring myself to return his letters, restart correspondence. Connections can't be re-established now but I feel I must speak anyway.

"I am..." I hesitate "I am proud of you, son."

He closes his eyes and bows his head, but says nothing.

I let the silence continue till he raises his head, I want to look into his eyes as I tell him even though I don't believe he can hear me.

"Dad," he whispers. I can barely hear him, his voice sounding almost muffled.

I allow myself a moment to collect my thoughts, I have little time to speak and I have wasted enough time already. "It was all for your own good," I begin, "everything I ever taught you or told you do was for your own good. Your mother agreed. But you never could accept that, could you."

He suddenly sits down, leaning back stiffly against the hard plastic chair. "Please Dad..." He trails off and for a moment he looks at me brokenly.

"You would have been safe in the Navy," I continue gruffly. "But the ocean wasn't big enough for you? Was it, son? You wouldn't let me keep you safe, accused me of trying to make you into something you aren't. But I had your best interests at heart! You must understand that!" I pause. "When your Captain called home that first time. I thought - your mother thought...we thought you were dead. I regretted not answering those letters you sent then, I regretted everything but even after we discovered you were fine I couldn't bring myself to talk with you."

Malcolm slumps forward burying his face in his hands. Did he hear me? Was he listening?

"I am proud of you, Malcolm," I repeat again, "I regret what happened between us." I can't bring myself to continue, I want to tell him that regardless of everything he is still my son, and...I love him.

I can't.

But then, he isn't listening.

He raises his head and sighs. "I'm sorry," he says finally. "For everything." His voice cracks slightly. "I'm sorry I was such a disappointment to you."

I shake my head slightly. "You aren't a disappointment." He can't hear me.

"You never listened," he continues his hand over his eyes. "I tried to apologise, I tried to make you proud of me. But you couldn't hear me. You wouldn't listen."

"I hear you," I say although I realise it's too late. I didn't listen back then, and I don't know how long I can listen for now, I thought I would be gone by now.

He lets out a hollow laugh. "I never..." he trails off.

Hiding his face in his hands his shoulders shake once. I see my little boy sat there, not the man he is now, but the boy he once was, before our differences became almost irreparable, before his innocence was lost to space, back when he still let me protect him. Then the moment is lost.

He wipes his eyes, straightens and stands. Malcolm stares at me and I stare back at him. My son, this man before me that I never really knew. There was never the right time to speak, never the ability to listen, and now there are no moments left. The living cannot hear the dead, and though the dead can listen the living cannot speak.

I close my eyes, my time is up, and I've made my peace. The dead cannot linger. "Stay safe, son."

Then as the room drifts away I hear his voice.

"Goodbye, Dad."


End file.
